


Exam Night

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [102]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-17
Updated: 2007-05-17
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exam night has its rewards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exam Night

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex and Ula
> 
> Thanks to Mali for inspiring their dance.
> 
> [More information on Hermione.](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Hermione_Bagwa)
> 
> Thanks to Inya for inspiring me.

83 degrees. No air conditioning in the ancient auditorium on the first floor of Taton Hall. Of course this had to be the night of Ian's Expo 101 final.  
  
Sweatier than after a kata, Ian looked at his watch. 7:45. These three-hour exams went beyond boring. He wrote the time on the board, gleefully noting he had only fifteen minutes left to go. He'd finished his iced coffee half an hour ago, along with the grade computations for his Intro Lit course.  
  
Hermione Baggins, a part-time waitress at Rex's, was his teaching assistant this semester. She was a blonde stunner, who tended to wear mini-dresses at the diner, though she dressed conservatively for class. Thankfully, she was dating one of the busboys at Rex's, and had not a trace of a crush on him.  
  
The first time he'd met her, he'd jokingly asked if she was related to Bilbo himself, to which she'd answered with a straight face, "We're distant cousins, but the Sackville-Bagginses won't acknowledge us." Obviously, they shared the same dry wit.  
  
He and Hermione took turns strolling around the auditorium, a casual reminder to the class to keep their eyes on their own papers. No cheating problems that evening, helped by the fact that color-coding told the students the next identical exam was ten feet away. But their professor and his T.A. were more interesting to many than the papers in front of them. By far the better view.  
  
Appreciative eyes, male and female, focused on his hips occasionally, drawn to him like an oasis in the sweltering room. His cream slacks managed to hug all the places Quinn had that morning. He'd taken his jacket off before passing out the exams, so his form-fitting outfit was even more of a distraction to them.  
  
His white, short-sleeved shirt clung to his chest and stomach, his sweat a natural glue. He didn't even consider loosening his tie in class, fortunately for the students, who were already flustered enough.  
  
If he'd known what they were thinking, his blush would have made him all the more attractive. His serious-minded focus on his work was its own protection.  
  
"Pens down, everyone."  
  
Even after this command, he had to wrestle papers out of a few hands. What an extra two words, illegible in their hasty scrawl, would accomplish was anyone's guess. Chalk it up to exam-day nerves.  
  
Hermione and he checked I.D.s as the students handed in their papers. He'd once caught a ringer at Ken State that way. Today they all matched up. Breathing a sigh of relief at the administrative nightmare forestalled, he counted the exams, making sure they dovetailed with his roster.  
  
He sent Hermione home and walked to his office on the second floor. Quinn wasn't back from his own final yet, so Ian turned on the ceiling fan and sat back to relax. He finally undid his tie, along with the top two buttons of his shirt. Closing his eyes, he yielded to the caress of air on his face and neck, wishing it were Quinn's.  
  
He had a feeling his husband was near a moment before hearing his step in the corridor. The key in the door, followed by the thunk of the bolt, made him smile, and he opened his eyes to see Quinn grinning at him. His husband dropped his briefcase on the student chair, then ambled over to sit on the edge of Ian's desk.  
  
"So y'managed to pry the exams away from your kids inna fair fight?" Quinn drawled.  
  
"Yep, and no bite marks this time," he teased back.  
  
"I'm the only one who can do that, laddie," Quinn said, in just the low, possessive tone Ian loved to hear. He captured Ian's hand under his own on the blotter.  
  
"Only you." His eyes darkened to emerald as Quinn began stroking his fingers.  
  
Quinn shifted impatiently on the desk edge. "Ready to leave yet, lad?" A wealth of frustrated longing shone in the blue of his eyes. 'Never in the office' had proven to be a stringent restriction in practice. He reluctantly released Ian with a final squeeze so he could get his papers together.  
  
Enraptured by the blue, Ian shoved the exams in his briefcase unceremoniously. "Let's go."  
  
They headed for the THX at their usual brisk clip, and Quinn rolled the ragtop down. He cued a Boccherini CD and pulled out. At this hour, the usually congested university roads were almost empty, and he let the speedometer inch up.  
  
The spring breeze ruffled Ian's hair almost as satisfyingly as Quinn's big hand, and made it even messier than usual. Looking over at his husband, he relished the sight of the broad forehead, hair blown back in abandon. Quinn's hand was on the stick, and Ian had the same impulse to touch it as he'd had on their first date at Larson's. Amazing how the years never dimmed his passion.  
  
After hours of sweating, he finally felt cool. He melted into the seat and let the music and air wash over him. Quinn started humming beside him and he joined in. Somehow, he knew when they came to their own little lane, even with his eyes closed. He opened them, to see their green safety light shining at him like a beacon.  
  
As they walked up the path, he could hear Artoo yapping, Sandy sitting this one out. Despite their eagerness to get to bed, they played with the pups after they were fed and watered.  
  
Ian's clothes were heavy with sweat, and resisted his efforts to pull them off quickly. Quinn's broad hands briskly completed the job, then his own. One look at the damp clothing pile propelled Ian towards the shower, Quinn in literal hot pursuit.  
  
Ah, the water was sheer bliss, but Quinn's arms around him were even better. They relaxed into each other for luxurious moments, neither reaching for the soap. Despite his exhaustion, Ian felt himself hardening against the firm muscle of Quinn's thigh. He smiled at the answering nudge against his stomach. Some things they were never too tired for.  
  
He grabbed a handful of liquid soap, spreading it over Quinn's shaft, his touch just this side of rough. Quinn's length jumped satisfyingly in his hand, and Ian began to squeeze and pull, just the way his husband liked it.  
  
Quinn leaned back against the tiles, too far gone already to reciprocate. Ian sped up his strokes, inspired by Quinn's grunts and groans. He kissed Quinn deeply, just as he flicked his thumb over the head, and his husband came with a gasp into his slippery hand, hot semen mixing with the cooler spray of water.  
  
Quinn rested against the tiles for a few moments, while Ian petted him down from his climax. A blue gleam was Ian's only clue he was about to be pounced upon. Quinn backed him into the corner, soap slicking that massive hand. Just looking at those thick fingers made Ian harder.  
  
Quinn started to pump him at the same instant his lips swooped down for a kiss. Ian only felt his mouth and shaft, ignoring the points between. He was alive where Quinn touched him. And Quinn was in the mood to play.  
  
His husband enflamed, but did not satisfy, with each escalating touch. Ian was vibrating to Quinn's beat, and made it his own. His breaths had become gasps, Quinn's name barely recognizable amidst them.  
  
He sucked Quinn's tongue into his mouth as if he were starving, his own cream mixing explosively with the soap on his skin. Quinn gathered him into his arms, crooning endearments.  
  
Ian smiled when he pumped the soap again; guess it had to be used for cleaning sometime. They washed each other desultorily, then rinsed off with cool water. He wrapped a towel around his neck, and grabbed an aqua bath sheet to dry every inch of his long drink of water. Then Quinn used the nap of the towel to caress him dry.  
  
Bed felt even better than the shower had. Quinn tucked him under both the covers and his arm. Sleep was waiting for them with open arms, and they accepted the invitation gratefully.  
  
The exams waited patiently on their desks, knowing better than to compete with the primal imperatives of sex and sleep. 


End file.
